Echoes by Thomas Moore. at night
How sweet the answer Echo makes
When, roused by lute or horn, she wakes,
And far away o’er lawns and lakes
Goes answering light!
Yet Love hath echoes truer far
And far more sweet
Than e’er, beneath the moonlight’s star,
Of horn or lute or soft guitar
The songs repeat.
’T is when the sigh,—in youth sincere
And only then,
The sigh that’s breathed for one to hear—
Is by that one, that only Dear,
Breathed back again.
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